Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“What?”
“After you sucked my cock, did you go back to your room and fuck yourself?”
Her mouth opens and closes, but no words come out. She sure as fuck did. “Answer the question, Peach.” She squirms in her chair.
Hell, what I wouldn’t do to watch her play with herself…
She lifts her chin. “Yes. I did.”
“Was it just as mediocre? Did you think about me when you touched yourself? My son? Both of us—?”
“Sorry, someone was cleaning the stalls. What are we talking about?” Noah asks, sitting next to Georgia.
I take a sip of my bourbon. “Just asking how Georgia is enjoying her experience thus far.”
Noah smiles down at Georgia. “Oh yeah? What’s the verdict?”
“She says it’s been mediocre.” I’m an asshole, digging myself a hole. Her cheeks flare crimson. Noah pats her thigh, causing her to jump.
“Don’t worry. It’ll get easier.”
The waitress returns. “Can I get you two something to drink?”
“I’ll take a glass of the Cab. She’ll take the same.”
That little shit.
Noah’s pushing his limits. He knows we’re at a restaurant where I dine frequently, and the staff won’t question his age. I hold my tongue, and she excuses herself to get their order.
“Since when do you drink wine?” I ask.
“I’ve been known to drink a bottle or two of your secret stash.” I assumed the missing wine was his fault.
“And did you enjoy the three-hundred-dollar bottles?” I inquire, fuming at his blatant disrespect.
He laughs and leans back in his chair. “Couldn’t tell you. I was too blitzed to remember.”
My fingers clench around my glass. I should have shipped him off to a reform school and enrolled him in programs that provided proper guidance and a support system, which I failed to do. The man he’s growing into is not acceptable. I should have been stricter, less worried about him accepting me as a parent, and more consistent with rules. “Well, that’s a shame since you bought it.”
He snickers. “Huh?”
“Three hundred dollars will be deducted from your first paycheck. Next time, you’ll be less willing to take what doesn’t belong to you.”
He sits forward. “You’re kidding me.”
“Does it look like I’m kidding? You’re underage. And a thief.”
“I’ve been drinking since I was, like, thirteen. The wine was in the house—how the fuck is that stealing? And since when do you care?” He raises his voice, catching the attention of a server walking by.
“Noah, please.” Georgia tries to quiet him, but I’m more than familiar with my son’s mannerisms. He’s far from backing down.
“No. This is bullshit. One minute, you want to be this cool dad who’ll do anything to win my attention, and the next, you’re charging me?”
He goes to say more, but the server arrives with two glasses of wine. Noah smiles at her, then takes his glass and stares directly at me. “Cheers, Dad.” He swirls the wine in the glass, then tips it back, not stopping until it’s gone. “Feel free to add that one to my bill too.”
He goes to stand, but Georgia throws her palm against his chest. “Noah, sit down.”
“No, I’m not—”
“Sit. Down.” Her voice is stern, and it awakens my cock. Feisty little thing. I expect Noah to slap her hand away and take off. “Please. It’s not worth it.” She barely spares me a glance, her gaze guarded. Looks like I’ve bruised her fragile ego.
Fine. That just means we have some things to discuss—once Noah storms off and leaves her to fend for herself.
I lean back, waiting. Watching.
Noah’s chest rises and falls in slow, controlled breaths. His jaw tenses as he flicks his attention to her, clearly weighing his next move. After a long beat, he exhales sharply and sinks back into his chair.
Too bad.
The server returns, and Noah pounces. “Great timing,” he says, flashing an easy smile. I already know where this is headed.
“We’ll take a bottle of the Cab. Make sure it’s a good year.”
The server peers at me for consent, and I nod, then wave my glass, indicating I need another round myself. My phone buzzes, and I reach inside my suit coat, pulling it out. HR. Fuck. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to take this.”
I drain the rest of my bourbon and then find a more secluded spot to take the call. “What did you find?” I snap.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Blake,” Kayla, my head of human resources, begins, her voice tense. “I’ve reviewed his file a million times, and I still don’t know how it slipped through the screening process. All his information is fake—every reference is bogus, the phone numbers are disconnected, and the address on file is a sandwich shop in the West Suburbs.”
I grit my teeth, my grip tightening around my phone. “So, you’re telling me that my senior recruiter hired a kid with zero experience, zero references, and no valid form of identification?”
There’s a pause, the silence thick with tension. I don’t need to see Kayla to know she’s shaking. And she damn well should be.